


Raiment

by Tigerine (sealink)



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-08 01:47:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1126942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sealink/pseuds/Tigerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The time has come when it doesn't seem strange to think of Aoba in tribal raiment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raiment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [masasei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/masasei/gifts).



> masa made me an adorable Clear, so they get this in return <3

Mink made sure to be gone before Aoba woke.  Dawn stained the sky to the east a pale grey; soon the mountains to the west would be painted red-gold in the morning sun’s rays.  This morning, he’d picked up his hiking boots instead of his customary cowboy boots, tugging them tight around his ankles. He didn’t leave a note; he never did, but he didn’t have to. Aoba knew he would return.

Even though they’d been living together for nearly seven months, Mink had continued in his own way and Aoba in his. Mink worked from dawn until dusk, passing the time pleasantly enough in the evenings with a book and Aoba’s occasional conversation.  Aoba had slowly gotten accustomed to reading him, and now he did so easily. He knew Mink as well as Mink knew the worn books on his bookshelf, knew every page and scuff on the cover, turned each page with the soft, familiar touch of a lover. Aoba pestered Mink about the nature of the tincture he made, and hovered over Mink’s shoulder while he prepared some, his face an impressive combination of interest and confusion.

They made a point of going out into the forest on weekends, and Mink taught him how to identify birds by their calls. They found a cache of local books on birds and plants at a used bookstore that Aoba had asked for with a look of conviction and Mink, seeing his excitement, couldn’t refuse him.

Those birds called out their morning songs now, as Mink moved through the forest, away from the cabin and the farm road. Mink had been reluctant to admit, even to himself, that he had strong feelings for Aoba.  It was when he found himself sizing Aoba up for clothing that he realized that the young man he’d been sharing his home with had completely captured his heart. The first time Mink realized that Aoba knew him so intimately had been something of a clarion call. If he had been looking for a reason to tether himself to this world again, this was it.

Finding feathers wasn’t difficult for Mink; the difficult part was finding some that met his high standards. He collected some from abandoned nests, some from occupied ones. Better to have too many to choose from than too few.  The forest was gracious with its gifts, providing him with more than enough feathers to work with. The soft grey and brown feathers of doves and wrens were suitable for Aoba, the man he loved and sought to protect, whose kindness and understanding had pulled him back from perdition.

But there was someone else, too, who needed recognition. The entity within Aoba, the one who smelled like ruin and destruction, was still present. His scent was faint and did not seem to bother Aoba at all. As the weeks passed after their initial coupling, the smell of destruction slowly ebbed away, until now, when Mink was hardly sure he could detect it at all. For whatever reason, the entity had lain quiet. Mink realized he was grateful for the silence. It still twisted his heart to think of how he had mistaken one for the other and nearly destroyed a gentle soul in the process.

The crows themselves weren’t difficult to find; they roosted in large flocks in tall trees. Ignoring the warning calls of sentries, he found two flawless black feathers quavering in a hollow near the base of the tree. With this, his planned set of hair ornaments was complete.

But a twinkle of blue caught the corner of his eye; a bluebird’s feather, brilliant and trembling in the soft breeze that swept through the trees. A feather for happiness, the same color as Aoba’s hair.

The stillness that curled around Mink came easier than it ever had before, easier than it had since his return from Japan. The sound of wind and angry crows receded and he walked slowly toward the bluebird’s feather, fluttering at the base of the nearby tree. Sinking to his knees, he reached out and took it reverently.

It was not perfect. But Mink would not have left it for the world.


End file.
